And All The Jazz
by hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: In the end, it all comes to music. Off-shot of And All That Jazz  Written for usxuk's Sweethearts Week: Day 5


Jazz has always been important in my life. There's no other way to really explain how it inextricably saved my life. It never did seem important, but I would escape to this music when I was young. When I learned I was a lie. No, that's not quite not right. I wasn't a lie. My life up to that moment had been. I wish it hadn't, but that's the fact.

So I stuck with something that never changed; music. I could play the saxophone. So it didn't matter when my dad hit me. It didn't matter when he would "forget" to place a spot for me at the table. It didn't matter when I was chased from the house, clutching my bruised jaw, crying. Because I had jazz. I always had the music.

And then, I had Arthur. I had him in my life and he created truth. He was security. I admit I clung to him like a blanket, and he could shield me from everything terrible and dirty in this world. And with my band, And All That Jazz, we were able to create something. Something that held me together when it all fell apart.

When Arthur and I broke apart, I thought I had nothing, but again I had jazz. I replaced him with my saxophone. But even that didn't work. I was lost. When hit, I could always get back up. I knew how to walk on my own, but suddenly I couldn't stand. I wobbled, faltered, and fell on my face. And even music was meaningless.

That was when I knew Arthur was my life. The love I never wanted out of my life. Was it stupid? Yeah. A lot of people told me I should stay away from him if he hurt me so much. But why would I want to keep that away from me? Hadn't I hurt him too?

I'm older now, so I can say safely that yes, I was. I lied to him. I hid the truth. I ran away from him. So I hurt him as much as he hurt me. And I'm not putting down punk, but when I heard he had turned to that away from jazz, I got livid. Well, that's one way of saying it.

In the end, I think I was weak. I just felt defeated. That was why I ran after him, made love to him on a piano, and gave him my heart again so easily. Arthur has always been so much stronger than me. It took me years to get back in his good graces. Oh no, it wasn't instant.

The day he accepted the ring and agreed to be my husband was when I knew I had come home. We walked together down the aisle, his hand on my arm and I swear I heard our band playing that wedding march. Those guys, still our friends.

One day, Arthur came home with a little girl. Her name was Elizabeth. She had a sister, Amelia. Well, how could I say no?

Jazz became their whole world. They learned the lessons of gentle hands and firm lectures, but never raised voices. I refused to raise those girls in a tense household. If Arthur and I had a fight, we would not let them know. We'd keep it behind closed doors, and never went to bed angry.

Those little girls became our world. And we didn't take them for granted. Arthur, for all his beauty and compassion just couldn't stay as young as I'd have liked. But, then again, I couldn't either. But we kept up as best we could.

Every night we'd listen to jazz, sometimes we'd even play. Amelia became out little singer, and Elizabeth learned to play the guitar thanks to Arthur. But something was always missing. Something the girls never quite understood.

So that was why we brought them here; to meet our band.

"So you met daddy when you were how old?" Amelia asked. She was always curious even at the age of sixteen. "How long have you been playing? Are you albino? Are you gay too?"

"Amelia," Arthur hissed. "Don't be rude."

Elizabeth strummed her fingers across Antonio's guitar. She smiled, satisfied at its tune. "It sounds good."

Antonio smiled. "Thank you. You play?"

"Yes. Papa taught me." She smiled at Arthur. Oh, she was so beautiful, recently accepted into a music academy. "I want to go pro. Maybe join a band of my own."

"Unless I became a famous singer," Amelia teased. "Then you can be in my band."

Arthur sat at the piano, flexing his fingers across the keys and slipping back into his mode. He played a few strokes and the band moved to stand like always. My sax was around my shoulder, resting on my hip as I licked my lips. Looking around, we had aged some, but we were still the same guys (and girl) as we had been in high school and college.

Francis grinned at Matthew, running a hand through his curls. They had finally come back for the first time in the States since having moved to France. My brother had done very well in a small jazz band with his cello, and he and Francis seemed to have found true love.

The same couldn't be said about Gilbert and Elizaveta's relationship. They never married, but they came close. But then Elizaveta just vanished. She never said why. Personally I think she got a little on the bad side of music. And then she appeared again. She's still that strong woman that we knew, but something had changed. I'm not sure what and none of us really could approach her about it. Roderich seemed to be her only tender friend she could still confide in.

To have Gilbert and Elizaveta in the same room was a triumph, but people can change. People can move past the hurt, the pain, the betrayal.

I took Arthur's hand and kissed it once, smiling him knowing he thought my eyes twinkled. He was still my little mystery, but I had picked up on his subtleties. He returned the warmth in those fiery eyes of his.

Felix, happily married as well, strummed the drums once, twice, and then we were off. I played a long note, and watched as my daughters sat to watch us play. They were mesmerized by the harmony of Francis' voice; he still had it. He never really lost it. I'd like to say we were flawless, but we weren't. Hey, what can you expect from a band that hadn't performed together in over fifteen years?

But Arthur was. He slipped back into that piano as if he had never left. And looking at him as I played my sax I could see him again. That smile that graced his lips, his eyes closed in enrapture. He didn't look fifteen years older, but fifteen years younger.

Our daughters vanished, replaced by lockers. In the back were prom students. And I swear, I could feel our old uniforms on my shoulders. I danced around the stage, laughing as Gilbert wailed on his horn, bending to one knee as if we played rock and not jazz. Arthur opened his eyes and looked at me in love. I came over when there was a break in my piece, planting a big wet one on his lips. I couldn't help it.

We heard cheers and went to our next song. Losing time and losing ourselves. And when Arthur and I were not needed on our instruments, I asked him to dance, and spun him around in my arms. He laughed, pulling me close, kissing my cheek.

"I love you," he whispered. "You're my dearest heart even after all this time."

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><p><em>Hoshiko2<em>'s cents: I wanted to expand this just like the past few stories, but I've been rather sick. So I apologize this isn't fantastic. I saw the prompt and had to do And All That Jazz. This will be the very last time I post from this universe.

I hope you enjoyed it.


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